The Doctor Always Rings Twice
by FirstRabid
Summary: A story prompted by the Doctor referencing Rose's mobile minutes in Age of Steel. I wondered what sort of long chats they might be having...and PWP happened.


**The Doctor Always Rings Twice**  
by Rabid1st  
Ten/Rose  
**Rating:** Mature  
**Betas:** Yepper...that would've been a good idea. But no time to waste...got Disheveled 21 waiting in the wings...so no beta for this. Read at your own risk.  
**Summary:** This is strictly PWP, based on that line the Doctor said in Age of Steel... "Good thing I got you that cheap tariff, for all of our long chats."  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Doctor or Rose. If I did, I would have them doing smutting things like this all the time. So, it's better for the kiddies this way.

"What a day!" Rose sighed as she climbed, at long last, into her bed.

Pulling the comforter and sheet over her shoulders, she snuggled into her pillow, certain she would fall asleep quickly. But the day's events kept replaying in her head and she soon found herself tossing and turning. She pummeled the pillow in frustration. She wasn't in pain, though by all rights she should be.

In the space of one afternoon, she'd been drenched, shocked and thoroughly snogged. She'd walked for miles, climbed an Everest's worth of ladders and repelled down an elevator shaft. And all of it had happened, more or less, against her will. She wouldn't be surprised if she woke up sore in the morning, but a long, hot shower had driven the stiffness from her muscles for now. Any residual twinges she experienced were pleasant, the slight aches that come from lots of healthy exercise.

No, it wasn't overexertion that worried at her, keeping her awake. It was an all together different sort of pang, a deeper one. She clenched and squirmed in a fruitless effort to alleviate it. She'd kissed him. She'd kissed the Doctor. Or Cassandra had. But it had been Rose's mouth she'd used. Rose's tongue and lips. And it was definitely Rose who couldn't seem to let go of the sensations. The kiss played on an endless loop in her mind. She could remember every nuance of it, how he'd struggled, and then relaxed. How he'd started to respond in kind.

"Think of something else," she muttered. "Mickey? No. Mum! Ehk! School work. Maths. What's one hundred and sixteen times twenty-three?" She tried to answer her problem via silent computation, but found her mind straying to the elevator shaft. Cassandra had been wrapped around the Doctor's new, new body, pressed against that high, fit arse. "Gah...that's twelve, carry the one...and...oh, bugger!"

Her mobile gave an odd ring, two little chirps, and fell silent. Lifting the covers away from her face, Rose stared at the bedside table where the phone rested. When the mobile failed to do anything else of interest, she let her gaze slide down to the table's single drawer. She blew out a breath. But quickly reached a decision. Poking a hand out of her bed linen, she eased the drawer open just enough to fumble around in it. Her questing fingers tunnelled down through layers of cosmetic paraphernalia, hand creams and the like, until they found the slim shaft of her vibrator.

The phone rang again, with the same double beep. She didn't want to talk to anyone, not even her mum, but she also didn't want the mobile ringing while she was trying to relax. Settling the vibrator next to her hip, she scooted closer to the table and retrieved the phone so she could tuck it away in the back of the drawer for the duration of her experience. The caller id caught her eye.

"TARDIS calling," the mobile informed her, and then it vibrated in her palm. No more ringing, she thought, the Doctor only rings twice.

Acutely aware of the weight of the shaft by her hip, Rose answered the phone. "Doctor?"

"Oh, you're awake." He sounded slightly breathless. "Yes. Hello!"

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh...yes...perfectly okay here. How are you?"

She frowned. "I'm fine? She waited for a few beats before asking, "Why did you phone me?"

"Ah...yes! Why indeed?" he said, as if he didn't know the reason. There was a long pause. "Well...I wanted to see if you were sleeping."

"But I thought, you had levers." Had she misunderstood him all those months ago? "You said, you could just toggle a switch or something. Doesn't the TARDIS monitor life signs and tell you if I'm sleeping or not? Didn't you say it chimed whenever I had a bad dream or...?" Her teeth clicked together, biting off the end of her sentence as the ramifications of life monitors in her bedroom walls dawned on her for the first time. Hand closing guiltily around the vibrator, she curled into a ball of embarrassment. Surely, her breathing and heart rate went up every time she masturbated.

"Yes! Right! Chiming! Turned that off," he told her. "Hope you don't mind. Couldn't abide the constant, what? Dinging. It's a new me. No more of that...toggling, watching...monitoring...I'm a man of action."

"I've noticed."

He sniffed self-consciously. "I imagine, from now on, you will just...yell. If you need something. Anything. Like...tea or towels or...me. Or call. You could phone me. Or...pound on the walls. Silly, really, all those chimes and...toggles, when I'm right down the hall." His brisk rambling took on a hopeful note, as he asked, "Do you?" Hearing the confused catch of half-formed sound at the back of her throat, he clarified his meaning, "Need me, that is? Just now I had the oddest feeling you might."

Rose made a few more gasping noises as she tried to untangle the knotted threads of her thoughts. She felt rather distracted and, struggling to express her particular needs, eased the vibrator up onto her belly.

"If I needed you, wouldn't I be the one calling? Or more likely just standing there in front of you?"

"Yes, right. Awkward this. Phoning. But I thought it might...be... Oh, a good way to start. So? You aren't having any trouble sleeping...or anything...?"

The batteries in the shaft of her sex toy gave it a comforting weight. She thought about how luscious the satin-smooth length would feel sliding into her. The only thing better would be him. He was just down the hall. He could be with her in a flash. If only he were a man, a real man, one who understood what she needed. The muscle memory of wrapping her legs around his hips, returned to her full force. It wasn't fair for him to feel that good, look like he did...call her up like this in what amounted to the middle of the night.

"Rose?" he said into her ear. "I know you're there. I can hear you breathing."

She started, recalling he was still on the line. Mouth suddenly bone dry, she moistened her lips. "I was just...ah...thinking about you," she rasped. Oh, bugger it. She hadn't meant to say that.

She could hear the grin in his voice when he replied, "Me, too."

"Cassandra," she blurted. Then, blushed and grimaced, clutching at her temple with her free hand. "I-I was thinking about what happened with Cassandra. How she took over my body and..."

"Snogged the stuffing out of me?" the Doctor gleefully provided.

"Yeah," Rose sighed, before catching herself up sharply. "I mean n-no!"

"No?" He sounded hurt.

"I wasn't thinking about snogging. Not exactly."

She'd been thinking about straddling, actually, wrapping her body around his. And somehow he knew. She could hear him humming, the way he did when he didn't quite believe her. After the brief serenade, he asked, "Are you wearing your pink camisole thing with the bunnies on it?"

Pushing back the comforter, Rose glanced down at her sleep-set, though she didn't really have to look to answer him. She remembered what she'd put on, like it was thirty minutes ago. Because it was thirty minutes ago.

"It's my blue crop-top tee and white shorts."

"Ah-ha! Bare legs, then," he mused. "And belly. Arms. Lots of blankets? Are you cold?"

"It's the comforter," she told him, thinking maybe she was dreaming all of this. It had that surreal quality you get sometimes in dreams. Before she knew what she was going to say, she asked, "Are you still wearing the white shirt and black tie?"

"I was just taking the tie off," he murmured. "Shall I keep it on?"

"No," she said. Then, with reckless daring, she asked, "Where are you?"

"Driver's seat. In our chair, watching the dials spin and the data percolate."

"Is that what you do all night? While I'm sleeping, do you just sit there in the console room?"

"Sometimes I pace. Sometimes I putter. What about my shoes?"

"Shoes?"

"Off? On? Unlaced? Exchange them for slippers? Have you a preference re: high-top trainers?"

She opened her mouth to ask him what he thought he was doing, but the protests evaporated on her tongue. Instead, she said, "Suit jacket off first, then your shoes and socks."

"Not wearing socks. They got all squishy in the elevator."

"You looked good wet," she quietly recalled, her fingertips tracing patterns on her inner thigh. She was growing wet, as well.

"Felt good, too, hey? Didn't think I'd noticed you clinging, did you? Hmmm?"

The vibrator hit the bed and rolled away as Rose turned onto her hip. She squeezed her knees together, hoping to alleviate the throbbing between her legs. Through the mobile, she heard the Doctor put his receiver on a hard surface. Soft sounds drifted down the line, as he apparently complied with her orders. Thinking of his bare feet, she stroked hers over one another, caressing herself. She savored the butter-smooth texture of the sheets sliding against her bare legs, but her shorts started to twist and bind. She tugged at the waistband, and then, further down, at the moist flannel.

Picking up his phone again, the Doctor whispered, "You can take them off, if you like. Go on with your plans."

A sweet tingle lifted the hair on her arms. "I...I don't know." It was no good denying it. She knew exactly what he was talking about. He wanted her to use the vibrator, while he stayed on the line.

"Rose," he said, his voice honey thick and oh, so suggestively tender, "I know. I've always known. I've got better ears than a human. And I'm psychic."

"Oh...God...you didn't..." she exclaimed, holding the phone out to arm's length and ducking her head in mortification. She heard the tinny whimper of him saying something, but couldn't make out words. After a moment, she cautiously returned the mobile to her ear.

"It's okay," he soothed, as if he knew she was listening again.

"No," she corrected him, "It's not. I can't possibly...look at you. How am I ever going to..." That was it. She'd never be able to come out of her room again. She'd never be able to face him without extreme mortification, thinking about what he'd heard her, felt her, doing. "All those times, I...You were listening? And you never even mentioned it?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, gently, "Nearly everyone does it. It's perfectly natural."

"Yeah, well that's easy for you to say. Nobody's eavesdropping on your personal, private moments."

"Haven't had any," he admitted, "Well...until now. But, if you'd care to listen in...I'd be happy to oblige you."

Shock snaked through her veins. Was he actually suggesting he would...? Right now. Is that why he'd called? If so this was huge. And she didn't know if she was ready. The room lost focus. His voice came to her as a faint buzzing. She couldn't breathe. She gasped helplessly, but she wasn't getting oxygen. The inhaled air seemed to vanish from her lungs. Her pulse hammered like a tympani drumming in her ears.

Her brain refused to reboot. "I...you're...about to...?"

"I thought, maybe...it would be we?"

"Oh," she panted. "Oh." He sounded so plaintive, her panic lessened marginally. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and gave herself a mental prod, hoping to fire up some neurons for actual coherency. "I don't think I can, not like this, not over the phone."

"Worried about your rollover minutes?"

It took her a few seconds to process the joke. When she did, she experienced a conflagration of positive emotions. Foremost among them, gratitude to, and a searing love for, him. She laughed, even as a heated rush of desire drove out all fear and shame. Something slithery melted and corkscrewed under her navel. She pressed her thighs together again.

"Of course, if you'd rather not...?" he paused, before saying, "But I do have my trainers off."

"And your tie?" she asked, on a breathless chuckle.

"And my tie."

Curiosity warred with caution. She wanted a few more details on what he might do next. But she wasn't sure how to phrase her question. She'd have to face him in the morning, travel on with him. Still, if they were going to start having phone sex, she needed something to work with. She had no concept of what a Time Lord might do in his personal, private moments. Not that she hadn't tried to imagine it, from time to time.

"You've seen me naked," he reminded her. "Post-regeneration. You dressed me in pajamas and put me to bed."

"Are you reading my mind?"

"Just a bit."

"I don't like it."

"You will," he promised, in a sultry purr. "Once you get used to it. Do you have a good grip on the phone?"

She clenched her fist, white-knuckling it around the mobile before she hesitantly said, "Yes." A second later, despite her precautions, she nearly lost her grip on it. On everything.

He touched her. It felt like he was right there with her. His fingers stroked over her lips, skidded down her throat and swirled around one of her peaked nipples. "Oh, god...yes," she moaned.

"You got that, then?" he chortled, somewhat breathlessly.

"Got it. Yeah," she managed to gulp. "How did you-ahhh?"

A minor quake hit low in her belly. The aftershocks fanned out in every direction. Ghostly lips seemed to be sucking on her throat. They moved lower, gliding to her breasts and on down to even more sensitive places. She felt the tickle of his breath on her inner thigh, sending chills up her spine. Pleasure rocked her, she shivered and then jerked convulsively. He crawled inside her, coiling tighter and tighter. "Oh...buh..." She tried to speak, but her teeth ground together as her jaw clamped down on a wailing cry. Her neck arched and her body thrashed out of her control. The phone was her only anchor. She fisted her hand around it, feeling as buffeted as a helium balloon tethered in a strong wind.

Far away, she heard the Doctor keening her name like a cantor calling the faithful to prayer, "Rose? Rose? Rose?"

"Coming," she hissed in answer to his entreaty.

Tiny bursts of color dazzled her mind's eye. Her quivering became shuddering. Her shuddering turned into a seizure of unadulterated bliss as she climaxed. Every muscle pulled taut. Mobile still under one palm, her nails ripped into the sheet beneath her. Her feet scrambled for purchase as her back bridged off the bed. Rolling orgasms, wave after ardent wave, swept over her. She thought it would never end. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. She collapsed in a heap, breathing raggedly as a sense of perfect peace enveloped her.

The phone made a noise. She yawned as she fumbled it to her ear again. "Hmmmm?" she hummed contentedly.

"Think you can sleep, now?" the Doctor asked. When, he got no answer, he prompted her, "Rose?"

"I'm too..uh, yeah..." She yawned again, her incoherent mumble fading away into a sigh.

He stayed on the line, listening to her breathing slow and steady. When she was nearly asleep, he whispered, "Sweet dreams, my Rose."

Rose smiled as the mobile slipped from her slackened fingers.

The End


End file.
